Wendy cleared her throat. “I’ve just been thinking about it a lot, I guess,” she confessed, raking her fingers through her hair. “I’ve been drawing pictures of him, and other weird stuff—without even realizing I’m doing it,” Wendy tried to explain.

Jordan nodded along, but she looked far from understanding.

“And I’ve been having weird dreams, too.” Wendy’s cheeks burned as she stared down at her hands. “It’s just been making me wonder if magic is real, if Neverland could exist.” She licked her lips. “If Peter Pan could be real.”

For a moment, they both said nothing. Somewhere down the street, a dog barked.

“Wow.” Jordan let out a small, awkward laugh. “It sounds like your imagination is really running rampant, huh?” She smiled, but it was forced. “Giving you these wild dreams and…”

Disappointment slumped Wendy’s shoulders.

“Hey.” Jordan gently touched Wendy’s arm. Worry was written across her best friend’s face. “What’s going on with you?”

Of course Jordan wouldn’t believe something that sounded so impossible. Wendy wouldn’t, either, if the roles were reversed.

“It’s nothing, really,” Wendy said. “All these kids going missing is starting to get to me.” That was true enough. “And I’m not getting enough sleep.” She tried to force her lips up into a smile. “Like I said, I’m just really tired.”

Jordan didn’t look very convinced, but her expression softened. The way she chewed on her bottom lip made Wendy think she was going to press further, but after a moment she just let out a heavy sigh. “Okay…” Then more resolutely, “Okay.”

Jordan cut the engine. Without the air conditioner running, the car quickly grew hot under the afternoon sun. Sweat immediately prickled on the small of Wendy’s back.

“Go home and go to bed early tonight,” Jordan said. She gave Wendy a small smile and crinkled her nose. “Drink some of that nasty chamomile tea you like so much.”

“Okay, Mom,” Wendy said, trying to follow suit and ease the tension. She slung her bag over her shoulder and got out of the car.

“You’re not funny,” Jordan called after her. It lacked her usual ring of humor. Jordan didn’t leave until Wendy was in her truck and the engine had roared to life.

Wendy gripped the steering wheel, the leather hot and sticky under her palms. She was parked at just the right angle so the sun glinted in the scratches left on her windshield.

Wendy took the long way home.

The front door was unlocked. Wendy’s mom’s car was gone, but her father’s waited in the driveway. She walked into the living room and found him sitting on the couch. His head was tilted back and snores rumbled from under his bushy mustache. The local news was on the television. Benjamin Lane and Ashley Ford smiled at her from the screen.